


It's like I got my life stuck, stuck on rewind

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Frottage, Grinding, Harry is still doing his a-levels, Louis's "new in town", M/M, Malabambi, Niall likes organizing things, Smut, Zayn is the town's graffiti artist, and is a baker, did anyone else watch that netflix thing?, idk - Freeform, liam is liam, right - Freeform, this might be a crack fic?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 22:33:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3464501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis might fancy the kid that lives across the corridor from his new flat enough to commit a felony.</p>
<p>(Or the one where Louis steals; Zayn isn't actually the town's "bad boy"; Niall would bury a body for Louis; Liam thinks Louis's feet are tiny; and Harry gives away his jumper.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's like I got my life stuck, stuck on rewind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dontwannabehereanymore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontwannabehereanymore/gifts).



> MoreThanJustLarry - All of your prompts were lovely and I honest to god tried writing all of them, but this one happened the fastest. Come find me after the reveal and I'll give you those scraps of starts for the others (since they're technically yours anyways)!
> 
> Everyone - This work is in two parts. The first is fluff and a vomit inducing plot, the second is weirdly kinky sex? Actually, it's not that kinky at all.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy and if you like it, awesome, if not, sorry. 
> 
> (Special thanks to H or finding the time to look over this for me. All mistakes are mine despite this fact).

**Part  1.**

Louis Tomlinson has the worst best mate in the entire universe, probably.

“Why are you staring at Harry Styles like he stole fire from the gods and gave it to mortal men?” Zayn Malik asks in a curious tone of voice.

They’re both in the alcove area just outside Louis’s flat complex. Which also happens to be the complex a certain sixth form student resides in with his family. Louis has been hopelessly pining after this “mystery cute boy from across the corridor” for one and a half months now and he actually didn’t know the lad’s name until about two seconds ago. And...okay, Zayn has no current knowledge of Louis’s secret adoration (seeing as Louis met him this afternoon and forced them into eternal friendship), but he’s still the worst best mate to happen since Marcus Junius Brutus the Younger. He rightly checks Zayn’s rucksack for any knives.

“Erm…” Zayn mutters, watching Louis tear apart his bag.

The Tomlinson family relocated to Holmes Chapel two months ago. It was a spontaneous decision made by his mother after her divorce papers finalized. It’s not a bad place to live and it wasn’t a bad time to move. Louis had finished his A-levels a while back and was just working at a Toys R Us, Lottie and Fizzy were between semesters at their school, and Daisy and Phoebe only made one or two friends outside themselves. Really, everything seemed to work out at first.

It wasn’t until the Tomlinson family got here that each of them found issues with the massive change. Louis, in particular, hasn’t been able to find a job and that may be due in part to his employment history. He was never motivated in the past to keep up the “I want to be here” pretense so he ruffled some feathers of past employers.

This place is...small. Picturesque, but small. The opportunities are far and in between and more so to people with poor reputations.

Pining over Harry Styles was definitely the one and only highlight of his experience here so far. Well...that and meeting the resident bad boy.

(“Are you spray painting a mural on the side of a major road in broad daylight?”

The boy in question turns around, and, okay what a beautiful face. It twists in a split moment to show his confusion: furrowed eyebrows, widened golden brown eyes, pouted lips, and tilted head. His shaved head is on fleek and Louis wants to touch it.

“The owners of this building rang me to ask--”

“Don’t ruin this for me,” he interrupts at once. This is the first contact he’s made outside of failed job interviews and it needs to be perfect.

The boy raises an unimpressed eyebrow. Even the sport of scowling looks fucking adorable.

“Erm...okay? Yes, I am defacing a public building in front of many witnesses. Complete anarchy.”

Louis nods. Exactly how he likes his friends. He takes a seat next to him and demands an explanation for each part of the wall.)

It takes him a few moments (using the time to pick up his belongings from the floor and replacing them in his rucksack), but Zayn gets it.

“Oh, you proper fancy Styles then, ya? He’s a good lad. Gives me a free biscuit when I visit him at the bakery he works.”

Louis blinks once. Louis blinks twice. Louis grabs Zayn’s bag and throws it on the ground. “Et tu Brute?” he shouts in complete outrage. It echoes all across the way and startles the figure of Harry Styles into falling completely over onto the ground. Oops.

“You’re a horrible best mate,” Louis informs Zayn.

The latter of the two looks shocked for an entirety of ten seconds before he’s beaming, crinkly eyes and all. An actual bird falls out of the sky at the sight of it. “We’re best mates?” he asks before pausing and adding, “You used that Shakespeare phrase earlier in the wrong context by the way. See, it’s Latin and it translates to--”

Louis sighs and leaves.

***

Harry Styles owns a potted flower that he keeps on his window sill. It’s a beautiful thing that is no less than the absolute epitome of its caretaker. Louis will argue to his death that he did not search the type of floral plant Harry owns on the internet. In fact, he doesn’t know that the boy cares for African Violets. He will, however, allow that the rich purple colour of the plant’s petals often catches his eye much like Harry’s kind smile. And...if questioned in a less than decent state, Louis might let out that mossy green pillow leaves remind him of Harry’s eyes.

But the plant in itself is one of the only things he knows about the boy.

“You stole Harry’s plant?” Zayn asks a third time while Niall cackles loudly where he stands.

Louis glares at both of them. “It was an accident.”

Niall stops laughing long enough to snort out a, “Doesn’t he live on the third floor?"

Ignoring the unneeded inquiry, Louis sniffs and hides the flower behind his back again.

He isn’t lying. It was an accident. Louis “accidentally” hide behind a tree and watched Harry water his plant. His limbs “accidentally” slipped and found their way up that same tree. When the coast was clear, the flower “accidentally” fell into his arms.

He is a victim of circumstance and had hoped his only two friends (one of whom being his best mate, mind you) would help him out. Hell, just last week when Louis asked Niall if he’d bury a body for him, Niall passionately agreed to it. Of course Louis had asked Niall just five minutes into their haphazard acquaintanceship, but...semantics.

This is a mutiny and Louis is thoroughly unhappy by these turn of events. He let’s them know this fact and Niall starts laughing again. Zayn is a little more level headed about it all.

“God Lou, just return the plant? How have you not come to conclusion yet??”

What an unhelpful motherfucker.

“I agree with Zayn, mate. Harry loves that thing and he’d be devastated to learn its gone,” Niall adds in once he’s sobered up. And.

Oh.

Louis removes the flower from behind his back and places it tentatively on Zayn’s bedroom floor.

He once read a whole “wikihow” article on getting over guilt. It was after he had killed Fizzy’s goldfish and watched her face crumble in grief once she found the emptied fishbowl. Basically, he’s an expert on the topic and knows what he has to do.

“Get me a piece of parchment and pen,” he lists to his friends.

Zayn flips him off while Niall rips open the nearest table’s drawers. With the new articles in hand, Louis gets to work on writing out a makeshift apology note which quickly turns into Louis doodling a curly stick figure.

He asks for adhesive tape once his masterpiece is finished (Niall handing it over at once) and places it on the plant’s pot.

It’s been decided.

“I’m not going to return it. I’m going to keep it forever and learn Harry’s secrets from it,” he announces.

Niall gasps. Zayn rolls his eyes. Louis makes note to get new friends before he skips away, flower in hand.

***

Almost immediately a lovely boy went around the whole building inquiring if anyone had seen a missing plant. Louis’s mum was the one who answered the door which Louis was grateful for because he’s certain that one look at Harry’s face would have him confessing to everything. He can’t do that. Not when he’s so close to decoding the plant’s language.

Louis still feels guilty about the whole thing.

Not guilty enough to return it.

In fact, he’s really taken to the plant. He’s named it Ophelia and they’ve bonded. He’d be thoroughly disappointed if anything were to happen to it (and it may just be the namesake, but Louis is extra careful about the amount of water he gives the plant).

“...so then Liam says the most idiotic thing--”

“Oh my god he’s talking to it.” Zayn so rudely interrupts his conversation with Ophelia by bursting into his bedroom and staring at Louis as though he’s gone insane.

An Irish bloke with fake blonde hair comes trotting in afterward, pausing to take in the scene, shrugging, and jumping headfirst into Louis’s sheets. A bulky, pink-lipped, and bushy browed fellow follows more cautiously. He takes a seat next to Zayn on the carpeted floor.

Zayn continues. “You know that Harrys don’t grow from trees, right? Even if they did, your flower isn’t nearly big enough to pop one out.”

Louis chuckles internally at the thought of a tree full of Harrys, but outwardly rolls his eyes. “That is the stupidest thing you’ve ever said. Wait, no. Malabambi.”

Niall laughs because he has a wonderful taste in humour. Zayn blushes pink. Liam frowns and asks, “What do you mean? Zayn’s plenty smart.”

“You were there for that, Liam,” Louis sighs in response. “Two nights ago at Niall’s house when we were all playing footie?”

Liam shakes his head. Whatever.

“But isn’t that the night you confessed to dreaming of choking on Harry’s cock?” Zayn asks innocently, saving a flustered looking Liam.

Niall cackles because he has a stupid sense of humour.

Huffing, Louis cradles Ophelia into his chest. Suddenly Zayn is pointing sharply at him and Louis hisses at the action.

“You’re talking to it again!”

Niall sits up and tilts a curious head. “Zayn’s right. I think I heard you mumbling to it.”

“Did you say ‘carrot-eating arseholes’ or am I hearing things?” Liam asks.

All of them need to leave immediately. Liars are unwelcome here. He tells them as much, but they all ignore him in favour of cuddling into his bed. Eventually, Louis puts Ophelia down and joins them. He’s never one to turn down a cuddling session with fit men. No matter how moronic they may be.

“Lou, I think you should try talking to directly to Harry instead of to his plant,” Liam says.

Louis supposes that Liam is right.

***

His opportunity comes in the form of a fire.

Three in the morning in the middle of February, Louis is standing a few hundred meters away from their building in only his spiderman boxer-briefs. Pillars of smoke are coming out of the entirety of the second floor. He can spot a few golden flames of the actual fire and frowns at them.

He was having a wonderful dream. But like...the fire alarm made him feel disoriented, forgetting most of his clothes in the haste of grabbing his siblings and booking it the fuck out of there. But he also forgot a certain floral plant. He’s worrying after it while holding tight to Lottie and nearly doesn’t notice a timid figure approach his family.

Harry Styles walks straight up to him, bubblegum pink lips bitten red, and pidgeon toed feet fitted in a worn looking pair of brown boots. Outstretched in a massive hand is a dark blue hoodie.

“You look cold,” is the first thing he says to Louis.

“You’ve got pillow imprints on your cheek and I want to kiss them away,” is what Louis says right back.

Harry’s mouth drops open and the hoodie falls to the ground accordingly. Yeah, that wasn’t really Louis’s best. He’s usually more subtle and he would like a second chance. So...he sort of just...pretends he didn’t say that, picks up the hoodie, and puts it on.

It smells of vanilla and musky sweat. Like Harry took a bubble bath and then went running for an hour. Louis is never giving it back. But.

Right. The kissing comment needs to be resolved.

“Thanks for the jumper. Was walking about rather bare,” he makes sure to say before holding out his hand and smiling. “Louis Tomlinson.”

Harry seems to be trapped in his head for a whole of a minute before shaking himself out of it and grasping Louis’s hand. His cheeks are flushed a pale pink colour and he’s staring at Louis’s recently clothed chest.

“Harry Styles? I live across the way from your flat. Baked your family a banana bread when you moved in?” he mutters in that low drawl of a voice. Harry speaks slowly like he’s committing to each word before letting them touch anyone else. This is the most Louis’s heard him speak and he’s enchanted by it.

He’s enchanted and rather fond when they drop their hold and Harry still doesn’t meet Louis’s gaze.

“That was brill, mate. Never knew buttered bananas could taste so good,” he responds and tries to keep all his sweet feelings inside. It doesn’t work so well judging by the way Harry blushes even further.

He looks up, his eyes looking wild. “ _Icanmakeitagainforyouifyouwant_ ,” Harry mumbles quickly.

This time, Louis blushes from the attention. Its just. So much pretty cute boy being pretty and cute. He can’t handle it.

“I’d like that, ya,” he lets out in his pathetic state. So it sounds more breathy than playfully flirty. This whole thing has gone rather poorly.

“Okay, I will then.” Harry’s eyes look less wild the second time he makes eye contact. But he does seem to make a realization as soon as the sentiment leaves his mouth, because he’s turning around to look back at their building. “Fire,” he comments.

What the fuck. How is one person so adorable? Louis can’t do this. He stands on his toes (because Harry is a little bit taller than him?? Why?) and smacks a loud kiss right up against Harry’s left temple. Immediately following the action, he turns around and cuddles up against the twins. He gives each of them little kisses on their sleepy heads and pretends Harry Styles isn’t staring at him in shock.

It’s another hour before everyone can head back to their places. Three flats were charred on the second and third floors, but when Louis returns to his bedroom, he is happy to find Ophelia well and unburned.

***

They’re friends now.

Zayn is the most shocked.

“You flirt with him every living second and you still haven’t given Ophelia back?”

Louis cuddles his floral into his chest and flips his best mate off. Still, he gives Zayn a reasonable excuse. He isn’t heartless. “It’s too weird now, innit? Like, ‘oh, hey Harry. I’m the one who stole your plant a month ago. Will you let me touch your dick now?’ Nah, best to keep it hidden.”

Niall is across the room. He’s organizing Louis’s sock drawer. Again.

“I think you should touch his dick and then tell him. Orgasms always make people willing to listen to felonies,” he comments before turning around and holding out two small purple socks. “Daisy’s or Phoebe’s do you reckon? Much too small for your feet.”

“Arguable,” Liam says from his spot next to Louis.

Louis flicks him. Hard.

“Phoebe’s gotten into a purple kick, but they’re probably Daisy’s. She likes to hide things in my room so Phoebe doesn’t use them. Now. The real issue at hand is how do I manage to convince Harry I’m boyfriend material?” He presents the question very seriously. The answers he gets are less so.

“Give back his plant,” Zayn grumbles.

“Suck his dick,” Niall suggests.

“Ask him out on a--”

Louis kicks out at Liam and throws a shoe at Niall’s ducking head. “You’re all useless,” he intones before petting Liam’s quiff and pouting.

Getting to know Harry has been the worst thing to happen to his fancies. Louis was expecting it but part of him hoped that Harry was an awful arsehole who would completely shatter Louis’s illusions enough for him to move on with his life (and stop feeling guilty about Ophelia). The opposite was true, of course. Harry is literal sunshine wrapped up in a kitten sprinkled with sugary sweet cream.

When he visits, he’s very demanding in learning everything about Louis. Harry asks a million questions, some being as ridiculous as his favourite colour, others being as deep as what he thinks happens after people die. It’s a chaotic whiplash of attention. Utterly unfair in the fact that Louis is already overwhelmed by the boy’s presence that adding the distraction of questions really makes it hard to focus on his own goal. Which is to properly seduce Harry into a relationship.

But it’s not all in vain because he learns many things about Harry in return. He’s got a notebook filled with little facts Harry will let slip. Things about his family, job, schooling, sure, but also things more distinctly Harry. Like when Harry mentioned being terrified of people not liking him or how he was worried Gemma would forget him when she leaves for uni. The sort of stuff he knows Harry only communicates to those he trusts.

So its all very natural that Louis is seconds away from screaming out in frustration over his total and absolute adoration of the boy.

“I know!” Niall suddenly announces, throwing a pair of socks in the air for dramatic purposes. He points at Louis. “You could bake Harry something, suck his dick, tell him about Ophelia, and then marry him.”

Dear lord. “I’d really like my proposal to be something less...trashy. Dick-sucking is romantic, yes, but at what costs?”

Niall flaps a hand at him. “Sure, sure, but wouldn’t it be proper adorable if you baked something for him? We can help.”

“Speak for yourself,” Liam grumbles and pushes Louis’s hand out of his hair. Which.

Rude. “I didn’t want your help anyway, Lima Bean.”

Liam rolls his eyes. “Chat all you want about grand romantic gestures, but you having Harry’s plant needs to be made a bigger priority, I think. You can’t randomly spring it at him and expect Harry to understand it. Blowjobs aside.”

“Oh my god, you’re turning into Zayn,” Louis groans, watching Zayn nod his agreement at Liam’s sentiment.

This is terrible. This is really terrible. This is really very terrible and Louis refuses to acknowledge it. So he flops onto his floor and wiggles about. The doorbell rings somewhere in the flat and he just knows. His Harry-senses are tingling but instead of getting up and throwing himself into a Harry-cuddle, he continues to mope, face-flat on the ground.

Until he remembers a certain rooted-creature that might crumble everything good in his life. Louis flits up from the ground, grabs Ophelia from Liam’s stupid hands, and places the pot on a shelf in his closet. Safely hidden, Louis goes and answers a knock to his bedroom door.

He gets a handful of vanilla-smelling boy almost immediately.

“Looouuu,” Harry sighs into his neck.

“Hiya Harry,” Louis returns and runs a hand down the spine of Harry’s back. He feels the boy shiver underneath his touch. Oh god.

When they break apart, Harry waves at everyone else and takes his favoured spot by Louis’s CD collection.

“How’s it?” Zayn asks while relaxing in Louis’s bed.

“Good. ‘m thinking of buying Gems a going away present? What do you think I should get her?” Harry responds to Zayn’s question and directs his own right at Louis.

He has to blink a few times before he can answer. “She’ll like anything you get her, Haz.”

He sighs. “I know but you’re good at that sort of thing.”

What sort of thing? He wants to voice this out loud but he’s distracted by the sight of abdominal hair when Harry stretches his arms above his head. Niall is nice enough to smack Louis into removing his obvious staring before Harry takes notice. He sees the younger lad smirking from the corner of his eye when he turns away.

“Right,” Zayn interrupts. “Well I think a nice card would do. The sentiment is there without bogging her down with more stuff to take.”

Louis nods because that’s a great idea. He adds, “Yeah Haz, you could write out a sweet thing about how excited you are for her. She loves that sort of slobbery stuff.” His voice is weak and Niall snorts at it.

Truth is, Louis doesn’t actually know Gemma all that well. She might roll her eyes at the card for all he knows. But...if Louis were in her place, he’d really like that. Just something easy to read if he were feeling homesick. He does tell Harry that last part which makes him cave into the idea easily enough.

So the five of them make a card for Harry’s sister. Louis draws stick figures in it, Niall helps Harry plan out his thoughts, Zayn colours the front, and Liam makes everything legible.

Harry catches Louis’s eyes when they finish it up and beams a smile at him.

Gross.

Louis huffs and smacks a kiss on his temple. The crime of being adorable is punished in this household. Louis makes sure of that.

***

The truth of the matter is that the Tomlinson family have decided they all like Holmes Chapel. They joke about the place (Louis’s mother loves to complain about how she adopted four more children with the move), but the small town is nice. The only real problem is that Louis has yet to find a job and spends his free time wanking out his frustrations.

Does Harry really have to bite his lip every two seconds?

God, its all horrible. He has to bite the palm of his hand not currently tugging hard at his cock to keep from screaming out his pleasure.

So, right, the Tomlinson family likes this place. Louis’s cock...not so much.

“Jesus bluggering fuck,” he mutters under his breath before cleaning himself off with a dirtied sock from the ground.

He’s still coming down from his high, eyes droopy, and breath short when he hears the tentative knocks at his door.

Louis moans. Louis groans. Louis pulls his pants up because there’s only one person he knows that actually knocks before entering a room (good thing too because Liam has a habit of catching Louis with his cock out). He opens the door to let Harry in and hopes to god the smell of sex is overpowered by the rest of the odors.

“Get showered and presentable because we’re going to find you a job,” Harry says as soon as the door opens. He takes in Louis’s appearance as an afterthought and starts backpedaling. “Oh god are you feeling okay? We can do it some other--” he cuts himself off as quickly as he started and bites at his lip. A smile tilts his mouth.

Louis knows that look. He is very familiar with this look. This is the look that precedes stupid comments. God help him. He cringes and waits.

But.

Harry doesn’t say anything. Just stares at Louis with that look until he’s grumbling and pushing past, muttering something about taking that shower. Once he’s all clean and dressed, Harry pulls him out of the flat and into his mum’s car. They drive past the central part of the village (which makes Louis a bit wary seeing as most jobs pop up in that area) and arrive at a park.

Harry’s still got that look when he guides Louis to a football field filled with children.

Louis is absolutely finished with it. “Could you just say what you want to say? Please?” he explodes.

It changes nothing. Harry waves over at a burly man and pushes Louis towards him. The man regards him and holds out his hand to shake. “You Louis then? Harry says you’re  good with children?”

Louis takes the hand and nods his head. “I’m alright.”

“Good enough for me,” the man answers. “You start training on Monday with Ed. He’ll show you the ropes. Just meet here at ten with your identification and stuff to get the legal things out of the way. My name’s Paul if you have any questions come Monday.”

Paul turns away and whistles at one of the running children. He walks away and Louis is confused. Harry is beaming when he turns around.

The pieces slowly start to form.

“You got me a job teaching kids footie?” he asks feeling faint.

Harry nods. “Sort of, you’re more of an assistant to a coach, but it’s better than retail?”

Oh god. What is even happening? Louis nods and walks with Harry back to the car feeling like his insides are on fire. They’re driving to get icecream (“I was worried he was kidding when he said he’d hire you on the spot. Let’s celebrate, Lou!”) when it comes out.

“I stole your plant.”

Maybe Harry didn’t hear him because he keeps chatting away about how much his friend Ed really enjoys teaching and watching the little kids get better. It’s a really sweet story and Louis would be fonding over it if he weren’t combusting with actual guilt.

“Harry, your African Violet is resting next to my window right at this moment. I’ve named it Ophelia and I’ve had it for three months,” he tries again.

Finally, Harry pauses in his description of a match to comment, “I know.”

Hold the fucking phone. Louis is shocked. “Sorry?” he demands.

Harry sighs. “Zayn told me weeks ago. He seemed really distraught by it all, actually. I figured you had it before that? When we starting hanging out more I noticed clumps of soil all over your room and I remember seeing you by that tree the day I lost it. So...yeah.” He says that all like it doesn’t destroy Louis’s world as he knows it.

But it does and he’s spiraling.

“I want to date you so hard,” he moans.

Harry reacts to that one. He slams the brakes hard and swerves to miss a head-on with a truck driver. When he’s parked off the side of the road and safely not in the way of traffick, he puts his head in his hands and whines. “You can’t just say things like that, Lou.”

“Why not?” he asks feeling a bit hurt. He knew that Harry might not reciprocate his feelings but he didn’t realize how that would feel. His heart clambers in his chest and his stomach is churning in on itself. He aches.

“Because I have a raging crush on you and I’m driving. I nearly killed us!” Harry snaps but a second later his blushing and groaning. “This is so embarrassing ohmygod!” His face is pale with spots of red and Louis wants to cradle it.

So he does.

“Why,” kiss to his cupid’s bow, “are,” kisses on his cheeks, “you,” peck on his nose, “so,” kiss on the left temple, “cute?” kiss on the right temple, “ _ohmygodyyou’resoadorable_ ,” he finishes in one breath and raspberries the right side of his long neck, effectively turning Harry into a giggling mess.

“You like me too then?” Harry asks because he’s an idiot. A stupid, gross, disgusting boy and Louis is so fond over him.

“Yes. A lot actually. I stole your plant because I didn’t know what to do with myself or you,” he answers simply because he doesn’t want any confusion on the matter.

“Would have preferred you asking me out.” Harry rolls his eyes but a massive smile has yet to leave his lips.

Louis shrugs and repeats his earlier sentiment. “We’re going to date and we’re going to do it so efficiently that you’ll forget the last past months of idiocy.”

“I would actually rather like to remember it. Sort of really like you more that I got to know you,” Harry says seriously, eye trained on Louis’s.

That was...well, okay. Whatever. Louis can make due. He tells Harry as much and they continue on in their quest for icecream.

_**Part 2.** _

The day Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles started dating was the same day Louis Tomlinson’s life became incredibly difficult. They have always been physically affectionate but that was mostly Louis. Now Harry has taken a new initiative and he can’t cope.

Which is why he’s hiding in his closet, clutching Ophelia, and hoping that Harry won’t find him.

“Lou?” he hears his boyfriend call out. Harry’s voice is a mix of confused, hurt, and sad and it's almost enough motivation to get out and cuddle him to death.

But he’s embarrassed.

See, tonight they’ve got the flat to themselves. Jay had taken the girls out shopping in preparation for warmer weather and left with a kiss to both Harry’s and Louis’s cheek. They were spending the time listening to music and playing card games, but Louis is a weak man. The thought of being alone with Harry started to repeat itself over and over again until a simple kiss to the cheek catalyzed a reaction. He ran away pretty quick after that.

There’s a knock to his closet door and a tired sounding, “Lou, I know you’re in there. There’s a trail of dirt.”

He squeaks and hides his face when the door opens. Harry crouches down next to him and gently removes Ophelia so he has no choice but to pout at his boyfriend.

“Do you not want me kissing your cheek anymore?” Harry asks quietly. And.

“No no no, Harry, no. I was just embarrassed but now I feel better, okay?” he says instantly. The faux-confident persona Louis uses sometimes comes out when he stands up and teases Harry. “Just seeing how well you could trace your beloved plant. You know me.”

Harry does know him, is the thing. “Don’t lie, please,” he begs.

Louis resolve crumbles. “I’m having a hard time coping with being alone with you,” he says through a sigh, eyes looking everywhere but Harry.

A confused noise precedes Harry standing up and cuddling into his chest. Louis holds him there and strokes his spine, heart pounding at the proximity.

“We’re alone all the time. Zayn’s been complaining that I’ve stolen you,” he challenges.

Louis pulls his boy far enough away so that he can explain himself properly. Because, okay open communication is a good thing to have in a relationship probably. Harry waits patiently for the explanation with furrowed eyebrows. Louis kisses those away first.

“I got...yeah, because we’re alone in the flat. No one to disturb us...? Just...I was thinking about that and I really like it when you randomly kiss me and…” he trails off, supposing the rest of it is self-explanatory.

It’s not. “Whaddaya mean, Lou?” Harry asks so innocently with his big eyes and puffy lips.

And. Having to say it outloud is difficult, really. Not just because he doesn’t want to destroy Harry’s innocence (They’ve yet to talk much about sex, honestly. There’s an unspoken boundary when they’re snogging due to this), but because something about saying what happened makes it all real. And turns him on a bit.

A lot.

He’s fidgeting when Harry asks again.

“Igothardwhenyoukissedme,” he says all at once and watches his boyfriend’s face change. Like a switch has been turned.

“Oh.”

And he’s embarrassed again.

Until Harry pounces on him. He kisses Louis’s cheeks like his ancestors descended from a cloud in the heavens and told Harry that his only purpose in life was to do so. Louis is overwhelmed and just has to laugh at it all, pushing Harry gently away to snort into his hand.

“Woah, okay, so we’ve got some things to talk about,” he starts, still giggling.

Harry whines. “No,” and tries to get back at Louis’s cheeks.

Another laughing fit. “Yes, Hazza.” He guides Harry to his bed and walks around it to sit on the other side. Harry is pouting and it’s adorable but he refuses to give into his urge to kiss it away. Instead he waits for his boyfriend to calm down before continuing. “This is something we’ve gotta talk about, babe. What are you comfortable with? What am I comfortable with? Stuff like that so that everyone is on the same page.”

Sighing, Harry nods. “Okay, I am very comfortable with dick touching. Like, would be extremely comfortable doing that right now.”

Louis has to laugh again because he can’t really do anything else. “Thanks, that’s a wonderful start. Erm, I’d really like to touch dicks too. Wank you off to your favourite music, mostly. Been thinking about that a lot.”

Harry flushes a deep red and nods his head. “Yes, yes that please,” he pants.

“I’d also really like to listen to you talk about baking while sucking you off. Thought about that one for hours last night,” he adds laughing gently to himself. Harry likes to remind everyone of his job every so often. Fucking cute is what it is.

Blinking a few million times, he asks, “Were you thinking that while…” his voice suggesting the dirty and Louis is somewhat surprised.

It’s times like these that he’s reminded of the fact that he has four younger siblings, two of whom are proper obsessed with a certain American high school basketball centric film. So, he takes Troy Bolton’s advice and gets his head in the game.

The consent has been established so he doesn’t feel too hesitant in crawling over to where Harry is still sitting off the side of the bed to whisper in his ear. “I’m not sure what you’re implying, Harry.”

He hears Harry actually gulp and watches his adam’s apple twitch. Could probably see something else twitch had he thought to check.

“Did you think of, erm, sucking me off while…” He’s embarrassed and Louis knows exactly how he feels having felt it just minutes earlier. Wonders if it has the same effect on him that it did Louis.

“Use your words, Harry,” he teases gently. His boy is bright red and panting like he’s running a marathon.

“Wanking, Lou. Were you wanking to the thought of me?” he demands in a breathless voice and moving his hand so he’s not clutching at Louis’s covers but clutching the front of his trousers.

Louis watches, mesmerized, as Harry palms himself.

It’s different, is the thing. When Louis uses his hand, he’s always grinded it against his thigh. It makes sense to move his hand down rather than move his body up, but Harry does just that. His left palm sits above his clothed cock, a centimeter of air separating the two and his fingers splayed out along his thigh, leveling the position. He makes choked noises when he tilts his thigh into the palm of his hand, riding out against himself.

It must not be enough.

“Harry...can I…?” he asks, eyes trained on the movement of Harry’s thigh.

“Can you what, Lou?” Harry mocks in a rough voice, eyes watching Louis watch.

He doesn’t have it in himself to be irritated. “Can I touch you?”

“Yes, please,” Harry confirms and Louis is pushing away his hand to palm at him. The way he knows will most help his baby, hand against cock and not cock against hand.

He panics at how loud Harry moans in relief but then he remembers they’re alone. Ridiculous he forgot everything so easily when his dick is throbbing and his hand is against Harry’s hard on.

Harry snogs him then. Uses both of his hands to pull Louis into himself and licks into Louis’s mouth. The kid is talented with his tongue. Knows how to tease Louis, touching and retreating, sliding and flicking--Each touch new and pulls something from him like weird sex noises he didn’t even know he was capable of.

Harry’s thigh is working up into Louis’s palm even as Louis pushes down; like it’s not enough and he needs more. This thought is confirmed when Harry pulls away to beg, “Please, Lou. Touch me, please. I’m good with dick touching. So good.”

“Yeah?” Louis asks just to say something and pulls his hand away, ignoring the way Harry sobs at the lose. “Get it out, then,” he commands with a kiss to Harry’s sweat coated forehead. His heart is pounding in his chest and he’s so worked up he can’t even think properly. Luckily, he’s focused enough to get up and shut his bedroom door.

But that all goes to shit when he turns around and sees Harry fighting with his zipper, so worked up his fingers are trembling. “Hazza,” he coos. He walks back to his boy, cradles his face, and kisses everywhere.

“Lou,” Harry sighs and melts into his touch. His hands drop his zipper and clutches at Louis’s jumper (his favourite dark blue hoodie).

Louis pushes until Harry’s laid out properly on his bed and works himself right against his boy. An effort to show he’s not the only one affected and it works judging by the way Harry drops his hold on the hoodie to claw at his back.

“Yes,” Harry gasps. His hands are touching and grabbing at Louis everywhere, resting at his arse long enough to push for more friction.

“Just like this, baby? Want us to come in our trousers? Humping like animals?” he asks, voice far more calmer than he actually feels.

He definitely doesn’t mind doing this. At all. But he watches the way his inquiring words affect the boy underneath him. He moans and arches, his chest colliding against Louis’s. So it looks like they both have a thing of humiliation. He can work with this.

But he has other ideas in mind.

“I wank to thoughts of us just like this, Hazza. So worked up we can’t even pull out of dicks like proper adults,” he says and waits.

“Show me,” Harry gasps, dropping back to the mattress with a restless moan.

He doesn’t need to be told twice and he knows having the focus off of him will help Harry. His fingers have already stopped trembling. So Louis pulls back onto his knees, unzips his trousers, and pulls the down to his knees. He goes much slower with his boxer-briefs, watching the way Harry’s eyes take every inch of him in.

“You’re wet,” Harry comments lightly, expression looking everything but.

“Yeah, babe,” Louis says and sighs once he gets a hand on his cock. He’s not much for teasing himself, but he’s so close just from all they’ve done already that he has to tug slowly. “Do you--uh--do you w-wank to the thought of me?” he hisses out. He feels even more beads of precum wet at his tip but he avoids touching the sensitive area.

He has to repeat himself for Harry to realize he’s talking. “Oh yeah, Lou,” he rushes to say in a rough voice. “All the time. The day your family moved in and you unpacked the truck? God, I couldn’t go out to greet you because all I wanted to do was touch myself.”

That’s some...hot news. “Show me,” he repeats Harry’s earlier sentiment.

Harry scrambles up so he’s kneeling on the mattress facing Louis. He’s fingers don’t hesitate to yank down his zipper and pulls everything out of the way at once. He whimpers as soon as his hands get on his cock and.

God.

Okay, yeah Louis can do this. He’s got his head in the game.

The tip of Harry’s cock is wet much like Louis’s was and he encourages Harry with a kiss on the cheek. Harry moves his hand to match Louis’s own slow strokes and looks up to meet Louis’s heated stare. Louis ruins everything when he crashes into his boy.

“Oh my god, Harry Styles. What have you done to me?” He demands between kisses, tongue dancing in between his lips to taste. Harry keens, giggling when Louis drops ticklish kisses on his neck. He moans when Louis bites down at the base.

A whimper stops the playful moment. “Please. I’m so close, Lou.”

Louis steps back a bit and lines up their cocks. “I’ve got you,” he hushes Harry’s pleas and starts stroking both of them in a fast, unmerciful movement.

“Oh,” Harry hiccups, surprised. His hands move away and cling hard onto Louis’s shoulder.

Louis notes another beautiful, mesmerizing thing about Harry. He doesn’t get louder closer to orgasm like Louis is (fighting against himself to keep quiet so he can learn this part of Harry), he gets quieter. The moans of a chasing orgasm all replaced with heavy breaths going in and out of his mouth, faster and faster. His eyes are closed until Louis feels a twitch in his body then they’re flying open and staring right into Louis’s. He let’s out another, longer breath of choked air and finishes in Louis’s hand.

Louis finds his own orgasm shouting out curses at how beautiful is and strokes at them both until he’s finished and Harry’s muttering his own curses.

Coming down from the high is like an existential awakening. Louis notices how both their trousers are hanging off their ankles and have rubbed the bottoms of their legs raw. He notices how the back of his shirt and Harry’s temple is covered in sweat. Most of all, he notices Harry’s little sniffles of yawns.

He smiles at them. “You’re fucking adorable and it’s disgusting. Please don’t fall asleep in our mess.”

Harry’s already fast asleep or at least pretending to be to ignore clean up duty. Louis doesn’t find it in himself to care.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Could you tell I almost put daddy kink in or that I almost wrote a "Harry humping Louis's mattress until he comes" smut plot.
> 
> Hahaha...hilarious...*sweats nervously*


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